


We're Far From the Shallows Now

by starkanium



Category: A Star is Born (2018), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Use, Falling In Love, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, M/M, Protective Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, a star is born au, steve's up and coming, tony's a famous singer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 14:10:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkanium/pseuds/starkanium
Summary: A Star is Born AU.Seasoned musician Tony Stark discovers - and falls in love with - struggling artist Steve Rogers. He has just about given up on his dream to make it big as a singer until Tony coaxes him into the spotlight. But even as Steve's career takes off, the personal side of their relationship is breaking down as Tony fights an ongoing battle with his own internal demons.





	We're Far From the Shallows Now

**Author's Note:**

> So, I just saw A Star is Born and it was honestly one of the best movies I've ever seen. I cannot stop thinking about it. And, while I was watching, I noticed a lot of parallels between the movie and the Avengers and I decided I was going to write an au. Let me know what you think.
> 
> I own nothing.

He croons breathily, his voice just barely ghosting over the microphone. It doesn’t matter, though, because the crowd is silent and still. Each inhale and exhale crackles and rumbles over the sold-out stadium, each word desperately hung onto by adoring fans. Seemingly, the only thing to be heard within a one-mile radius is the smooth voice of Tony Stark and nothing else. 

It’s moments like these that make Tony feel invincible. He holds the undivided attention of just under a hundred thousand people, and any mistake he makes is scrutinized. Every perfectly-pitched note worshipped. He holds these people in the palm of his hand and he can sculpt them however he pleases. He loves this feeling, but he hates it, too.

The slow song fades out and the band begins to play a more upbeat, exhilarating tune. It’s a sign that his show’s drawing to an end and he’s just gotta give one more push to finish off strong. The crowd is roaring now and they’re dancing and rocking with the music. Tony’s voice has taken on a more gravelly sound that falls and rises with expertise. 

None too soon, the concert comes to an end and Tony sidles away to find a drink. He’d managed to sober up during his time on stage and he’s ready for a few more shots or maybe a joint. He comes across a few beer bottles in his dressing room’s mini-fridge, and he scours up a dime bag of coke from last week in the back of a drawer that he forgot about. He cracks open the beers and snorts a few lines on his vanity in between sips. His heart flutters too weakly and too fast in his chest.

There’s a sudden, quick knock on the door that Tony easily recognizes as Happy’s, even in his intoxicated state.

“Come in,” he calls, wiping the white residue from his nose as he does. The door swings open wide and, sure enough, Happy Hogan is standing in the frame.

“Hey, Boss,” he greets. “Good show tonight. You ready to head out?”

Tony nods in the affirmative and polishes off the rest of his beer before he stands and follows Happy through the venue and out to the car. The world is a bit of a blur, shapes melding into one another and swaying gently. Tony’s well versed in handling a spinning world, though, and the coke’s sharpening his senses a bit. He slides into the back seat of the car and eagerly scoops up the mostly-drunk bottle of vodka that’s sprawled on the floor. He polishes that off, too, and marvels at the way the car feels more like a boat with the way it’s dipping and weaving in his vision. If he closes his eyes, he can practically smell the sharpness of the salt lingering in the air, like it would smell by the sea. He giggles at the thought, even though it’s really not funny at all.

“You okay back there, Boss?” Happy asks, eyebrows raised in question. Tony hates the skepticism that’s so clearly written on his face, noticeable even through his intoxicated haze.

“I’d be better if I had some more booze,” Tony says with a lopsided grin. “I’m sure we can find something around here somewhere.”

“I don’t know Malibu well enough to know. Sorry, Boss.”

Tony rolls his eyes and slumps against the door. His arm is awkwardly caught between the door handle and his body, but he’s too focused on the way his tongue flops numbly in his mouth to care too much. After what feels like an eternity but is probably only minutes, Tony looks up to see a pink neon light that says “Bar.” Tony’s instantly drawn.

“Hap, just drop me here. I’ll call when I’m ready,” Tony says and he slips from the car as soon as it comes to a stop. He stumbles over the curb a little when his shoe’s sole catches on… well, something. He can’t tell.

“You’re… You’re Tony Stark,” a voice says, incredulous. Tony’s used to it, though. The sky’s blue and grass is green and Tony Stark is a rock star, known to everyone in the nation.

“That’s what they call me,” he mumbles as he pushes his way through the crowd assembled by the door of the bar.

“Hey, wait!” the same voice calls from behind him. “This might not really be your… scene.”

The man’s finally caught up to him and so Tony turns to take a good look at him. His long hair’s pulled into a bun and he’s shockingly attractive, though maybe it’s just because Tony’s fucked up. He oftentimes thinks people are more attractive when he’s fucked up. 

“Hey, any place with drinks is my scene, don’t ya worry,” he tells the guy. His words are a little slow leaving his mouth but he thinks they make sense. The little smile the guy gives him encourages him.

“Yeah, if you say so,” he says, his smile turning to a full grin. “Well, come on in. Drinks on me!”

They make their way to the bar and Tony’s only spilled one person’s drink so far, and they didn’t even care because of who he is. It’s a blessing and a curse. When they finally reach the counter, Tony sprawls against it and finally takes a good look around. There’s something off about the crowd but he can’t quite put his finger on it, probably because he’s having trouble seeing straight.

“My boy’s up next,” the stranger says as he pushes a glass of gin across the counter toward Tony’s hands, gesturing toward the stage at the other end of the bar. “Just wait ‘til you hear.”

Tony turns toward the stage and watches as a blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty steps into the spotlight. He’s dressed in a colorful, gaudy outfit and he’s wearing makeup that would be astoundingly corny on anyone else. The way he’s moving shows that he’s confident in himself, though, which makes him even sexier. Tony’s instantly drawn to him.

The lights in the bar dim and the ones on stage brighten. Then, the man on the stage starts singing. It’s like the world falls away and the only people left are Tony and the man. His words are clear and bright, lilting and melodic like an autumn breeze. Tony downs his gin in one go because he knows he’s not fucked up enough if he’s so quickly turning this guy into a poem.

When he looks back up from his drink, the performer is dismounting the stage and walking toward the bar, stopping every so often to sing seductively to different patrons. Tony’s eyes are glued to him unwaveringly. Eventually, he makes it over to the bar and his eyes make contact with Tony’s, piercing him to the core. He’s never seen a lovelier shade of blue in his life. 

Soon enough, the performance is over and the man disappears behind the stage curtain, but not before a hearty round of applause from the audience.

“Who was that?” Tony asks the man he came in with.

“Steve,” he says rather proudly. “Steve Rogers.”

 

Tony somehow makes it backstage with who he now knows is Bucky Barnes. He’s in search of Steve Rogers and maybe a joint because someone’s bound to have one. Bucky explained that the bar they’re occupying has a drag night every Friday and that’s why there were so many drag queens performing and in the crowd. He knows someone will have a joint.

Bucky leads Tony toward Steve, weaving through tons of colorful people. Tony’s no longer as drunk, though, and he can make out the costumes more than the blurs from before. It’s fascinating, really.

“Stevie!” Bucky cries when they find Steve sitting at his vanity. “Someone here wanted to meet you.”

Steve turns with a bright smile on his face, though it quickly turns to shock when he sees Tony standing beside Bucky.

“Tony Stark,” he greets, holding a hand out to Steve.

“I-. I know who you are,” Steve replies, taking his hand in a surprisingly warm grasp. “What are you doing here?”

Tony tries not to take offense to that because Steve’s expression says that he’s just genuinely curious about why an incredibly famous rockstar is occupying a dive bar. Tony can’t blame him for wondering.

“Just seeing some sights,” he drawls. “But I came back here to see if I could take you out for a drink.” 

He’s still kind of drunk and he’s hoping he’s not entirely making a fool of himself by being so straight-forward, but Steve’s already shaking his head.

“No, I still have to shower and take all this makeup and paint off and-”

“I’ll wait for you,” Tony interjects, cutting him off. “I’d like to wait for you, really.”

Steve flashes him a skeptical look but concedes.

“Okay. If you’re willing to wait, I’ll come.” He smiles brightly again. Tony thinks he could get used to that smile.

While Steve is in the bathroom, Tony is out on the stage, surrounded by a now empty bar, with a couple of Steve’s friends. They’re all kind of drunk and dancing around and Tony’s never had this much fun. Never really had any friends, actually. But it’s a nice feeling and he revels in it.

“Hey, Tony,” one of the guys, Clint, says, slinging an arm over Tony’s shoulder. “Will you sing for us?” He’s slurring his words and supporting himself mostly on Tony, but he’s smiling and his eyes are sparkling with hope when he says it. Who is he to say no?

He sings one of his more intimate pieces from his first ever album and he tries to keep his pronunciation clear, though he’s not sure he succeeds. Halfway through his performance, he thinks he can make out the vague shape of Steve appear behind the blinding lights that glare onto the stage. His heart flutters a little and he’s quick to wrap up the rest of the song, eager to go out with Steve.

“Hey,” Steve says when Tony jumps off the stage to Steve’s friends’ clapping and cheering. “You were amazing up there. And apparently my friends think so, too,” he laughs.

Tony blushes for the first time since he was a baby.

“Yeah, well, I did it to impress you,” he smirks. “Can I take you for a drink at a place I know about?” 

There’s a cop bar that Tony frequents often when he comes to Malibu because the guys there barely even take a double look at him anymore and he can go get sloshed without any problems. It’s a perfect place to bring Steve since there won’t be any shenanigans for being famous. He knows that’s always overwhelming for people who haven’t encountered it much yet.

“Have him home by eleven!” Bucky calls from on stage still, laughing. It’s already 1:30 a.m. 

“And no holding hands or kissing,” another friend, Bruce, shouts. They’re all laughing and joking around and it helps mask Tony’s nervousness at the fact that Steve hasn’t even said yes yet. 

“I’d be honored to,” he says eventually, though, after all the laughter and jokes die down. 

Steve takes his hand and leads him outside, where Happy is waiting with the car. Tony’d called him not too long ago and told him to be ready to go out for the night. Tony opens the door for Steve and waits for him to get settled safely in the backseat before crossing to the other side and getting in himself. He watches in amusement as Steve takes in the luxury vehicle and the fact that they have a personal driver at their beck and call. 

“So, where are we headed?” Steve asks when he regains his bearings.

Tony tells him, explaining the dynamics of the bar. He tells him about the time he almost drowned in a dunk tank at a Malibu fair on his last tour and one of the cops saved his life and brought him out for a drink afterward. He leaves out the part where he was too high to tell which side was up when he was stuck in the tank.

When they get there, Tony orders them a couple of drinks and they sip on them as Steve tells Tony about himself. He was born and raised in New York but they moved to Malibu when Steve was a teenager so his mom could get a nursing job at the local hospital because she had connections there. He started singing when he was a kid but he’s never had lessons. He’s so good despite that, however, that his friends beg him to perform at their drag shows on Friday nights even though Steve’s really not into any of that. Tony discovers that Steve’s smile makes his heart beat faster and that Steve’s the sweetest man he’s ever met. It’s all going great, until it’s not.

A young guy whom Tony’s never seen before stumbles up to them with a feral grin on his face.

“You’re Stark, ain’tcha,” he says, garbled. Tony nods and smiles and tries to play it off placatingly, but the guy keeps going. “Ya know, my ex-girl fuckin’ loved ya, for whatever fuckin’ reason,” he hiccups. “Mind if I send her a picture so I can show her how much of a fuckin’ loser you are in person?” 

He starts to take a phone from his back pocket to snap a picture, but Tony’s not having it. He’s drunk himself and this guy is riling him up and he’s about to say some vicious things that he knows he wouldn’t want Steve to hear right after meeting him, but he’s saved by a fist connecting with the guy’s face. Tony jerks in shock and turns to the right to find the owner of said fist to be none other than Steve. Sweet, polite Steve. Tony laughs up at him, delightfully surprised by the turn of events and entirely forgetting the scathing remarks that hung on the tip of his tongue. Steve just looks angry, though, and he’s shaking his hand like it hurts.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Tony whispers in Steve’s ear, eager to, well, get the hell out of there. He grabs Steve’s hand and drags him out the door before the angered rookie could recover from the brutal punch directed his way.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Tony says to Steve when they make it outside.

“What are you sorry about? That guy was way out of line back there. I thought you said they were all nice there.”

“They usually are. I didn’t know that guy and he was younger; probably fresh out of the academy. It’s really not a big deal, though. Things way worse than that happen pretty often.”

Steve looks shocked and incredibly angry all at once and he looks like he’s gearing up to give a furious, long rant, so Tony stops him before he can get too worked up.

“Let me take a look at your hand,” he says, gingerly snatching it. It’s red and swollen and his two first knuckles are split and bloody. Tony whistles at it. Must’ve been one hell of a punch. “We’ll have to get you all fixed up.”

Happy’s been waiting outside for them so they get into the car again and Tony directs him to the nearest 24-hour grocery store. They go in and Tony picks a pack of frozen peas from one of the freezers and two rolls of gauze from the first aid aisle. He opens the gauze and wraps the pack of peas around Steve’s hand before they even get to the checkout. They’re both giggly, running on leftover adrenaline and some booze, and it’s the best first date Tony’s ever been on. Dysfunctional and all.

After they buy their things, they go sit on a parking barrier in the empty lot. Tony’s on the verge of sobering up but, for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t feel the need to go remedy that immediately. Steve’s enough to fill that void.

“So, what brings you to Malibu?” Steve asks.

“Oh, you know. Just the next stop on the tour list, but I made sure I’d be able to spend a couple days here ‘cause this is where I grew up. Good ol’ dad is buried out this way; figured I’d check up on him,” he says a little bitterly. Fuck, why did he bring that up?

Steve catches onto his tone and makes an inquiring noise. It’s something that Tony could easily dodge, but for some reason, he feels compelled to tell Steve. He shoots him a sidelong glance to make sure he’s really listening, really cares. And Steve’s just looking him earnestly, his brows slightly drawn and lips taking a small downward turn. He’s concerned.

“Just, you know.” He clears his throat, lets out a shaky breath through his teeth. “My mom died at childbirth and all my dad was left with me. Which, well, wasn’t good enough for him. He drank a lot and it made him, uh. Made him violent. Made me his drinkin’ buddy, which might’ve been worse than the violence, really,” he scoffs, a bitter smile curling his lips. He takes a deep breath.

“All in the past now, but I still like to check up on him when I get a chance. Like to make sure he’s still buried deep in the ground.”

Steve still hasn’t said anything and Tony’s starting to think maybe he’s scared Steve off, fuck, but he turns and sees that Steve’s just contemplating his hands with a troubled look on his face. Then he starts singing.

 _“Tell me something, boy_  
_Aren't you tired tryin' to fill that void?_  
_Or do you need more?  
_ _Ain't it hard keeping it so hardcore?”_

Tony’s eyes water at the melody, at the lyrics. It’s clear that Steve just came up with that on the spot and that he’s nailed Tony down in one go. His voice is like something he’s never heard. It’s strong but wrapped in silk and it draws all the breath from Tony’s lungs. In one stanza, Tony’s sold.

When Steve finishes, wrapping up his little show with one last, crisp note, Tony kisses him.


End file.
